


For You Only

by EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressed Katsuki Yuuri, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland/pseuds/EnigmaOfShipwreckIsland
Summary: Set after first season.An completely unexpected event leaves Yuuri attempting to win a gold medal for Victor alone.*5/9/20-after some thought, I've decided to put this on hold. I might rewrite it as well.*
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anything in italics happens in a character's mind (dreams, thoughts, memories, etc.)

_Under an arch of pastel flowers, Yuuri Katsuki stood with his very soon to be husband, Victor Nikiforov. They both wore white suits with roses on their lapels, blue for Yuuri and pink for Victor. Cherry blossom petals fluttered in the cool breeze._  
_Yuuri smiled, thinking about how much it reminded him of the snowstorm that blew in the day he met his idol. His coach. The love of his life. His fiancé, who was now pink flower petals in his silver hair._  
_Yuuri found himself suddenly looking into Victor’s blue eyes when the older man pressed his forehead against his. Though there was a smile on the Russian skater’s lips, it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, sad tears sparkled like diamonds on his eyelashes. “Victor?”_  
_Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri. He held on tight, as though he was afraid he would be blown away with the wind. “Take care of Makkachin for me.”_  
_Yuuri reached up to embrace Victor, but suddenly found himself in darkness grasping at a glowing flurry of snow flakes and cherry blossom petals…._  
Yuuri Katsuki yawned as he stood at the baggage claim conveyer belt. The thumb on his right hand kept rubbing against the cool metal around his ring finger. It was a comforting reminder that he was connected to Victor. That he really was engaged to the Victor Nikiforov, who he admired for far longer than he was willing to admit.  
He kissed the ring, resisting the urge to call his fiancé. Victor had a later flight than Yuuri and promised to text as soon as his plane boarded and landed. When his own flight landed, he was treated with a selfie of Victor in front of his seat’s window sent just a couple of hours before. That heart-shaped smile made him miss his fiancé even more.  
_‘Few more weeks,’_ Yuuri thought to himself as the conveyer belt started moving. _‘In just a few more weeks, I’ll be living with Victor in Saint Petersburg.’_ Truthfully, he wanted to go with Victor to Russia. Why should they wait a moment longer than necessary? If Victor hadn’t insisted that Yuuri go Hasetsu to give him a chance to “tidy up a little”, he may have changed his flight the night before. Instead, they spent all night fantasizing about their wedding as they cuddled in bed in the Barcelona hotel. They agreed to start seriously planning after Yuuri moved in to Victor’s apartment, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t daydream about it. If anything it encouraged Yuuri to start packing his belongings as soon as possible.  
Suddenly, Yuuri’s phone started vibrating. Thinking it might be Minako, he quickly fished it out of his pocket. He paused at the unfamiliar number that displayed on the screen, but then swiped to take the call. “Hello? This is Yuuri Katsuki.”  
“Katsuki.” Coach Yakov Feltsman sounded strange on the other end. Like he was forcing himself to say every word. His deep shaky breath was audible through the static. “It’s about Victor. His plane-”  
“I know,” Yuuri somehow managed to say, suddenly feeling his heart stop. When he put the phone up to his ear, his eyes caught the TV set hanging from the ceiling. It was set to an international news station with Japanese captions running. A video of Victor performing his free skate program the year before played with the breaking news headline:

**LEGENDARY RUSSIAN FIGURE SKATER VICTOR NIKIFOROV CONFIRMED DEAD IN PLANE CRASH**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *There is cursing.  
> *Parentheses (as it's own paragraph) indicate text message.

For the first few days, Yuuri Katsuki barely left his room. Other than feeding Makkachin, he saw no reason to. He simply did not have the energy to make himself do anything else. Days and night faded beyond his closed curtains. Time was passed by periods of tears and dreams.

In his dreams, Victor lived.

He used to dream of Victor Nikiforov, the five time world champion. Every one in figure skating dreamed of sharing the ice with him. To even be able to say they competed against the Victor Nikiforov was an achievement of its own, let alone the podium. The Living Legend of Russia was considered the epitome of figure skating excellence.

Yuuri didn’t know when his dreams evolved beyond those of faraway admiration.

He dreamed instead of the man he knew. The Victor that loved eat new food and explore new places. The Victor that always woke up early to watch the sun rise. The Victor that laughed and yelled and cried. The Victor who was always amazed and amazing him in his own way. The Victor that was always there, and would always be there in Yuuri’s heart. The Victor that declared his intention of coaching him while standing naked in his parents’ onsen. The Victor that accepted his ring and slipped another on his finger.

Dreams were always much too short, and conciousness felt long and cold. As though with the loss of Victor Nikiforov, the world lost what little warmth it had.

“KATSUDON!”

“Yurio?” Yuuri could barely recognize his own voice. Despite his efforts keep from disturbing the onsen’s guests, his voice sounded worn.

Yuri Plisetsky rolled his eyes. He did not fly all the way from freaking Russia to argue about his name. He had better things to do. Yuuri definitely had better things to do. “When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself?”

Yuuri didn’t say anything, choosing instead to pull his blanket tighter. Maybe if he didn’t get a response, the angry teen will leave.

Instead, Yuri huffed as he crossed his arms, foot tapping impatiently. “Well? Say something, you fucking coward!”

“You should go,” Yuuri mumbled, not daring to turn over. He wished he could sink into the mattress. Just disappear completely.

“This is Yuuri Katsuki? The skater that barely lost to me?” Yuri almost spat, trying to not shout again. This conversation was not meant for the rest of the Katsuki family.

When he opened his eyes, Yuuri could see a shimmer of gold in the sliver of sunlight under the window. It took him a moment to remember the ring on his finger. “Leave me alone, Yuri.”

The Russian teenager almost laughed. “What would Victor think?”

The anger that suddenly flooded into Yuuri just as quickly drained away when he finally sat up and looked at the teenager. Yuri Plisetsky’s right hand had bruised knuckles, a couple were also scabbed over. His blonde hair looked as though it had been scratched and pulled. The eyes at glared down at him were red and puffy, desperately holding back tears of their own.

The older skater sighed. “Yuri…”

His shoulders shuddered as he released a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides. “What were you doing? Why weren’t you with him?”

_‘Why are you alive?’_

“I’m sorry,” was all Yuuri could manage. He looked down at his own hands, touching the ring. He didn’t have to come back to Japan. A lot of his stuff was still packed from Detroit. He could have just had it sent to Saint Petersburg. He should have insisted on going with Victor. He could have brought Victor to Japan with him.

None of the “could haves” and “should haves” would change anything; Victor was gone and there was nothing anyone could do to change it.

“I DON’T WANT YOUR APOLOGIES!” Yuri shouted so loud he shook. “I WANT YOU BACK ON THE ICE!”

“What?”

“I CAN’T DESTROY YOU NEXT SEASON IF YOU’RE NOT FUCKING THERE!”

Yuuri blinked in confusion. “Are you…trying to encourage me?”

“I want my rival back.”

Yuuri watched as the Russian teenager stormed out of the room. Then he grabbed the phone next to his pillow on the bed. Ignoring all of the notifications, the Japanese went back to his conversation with Victor. After the selfie of Victor was a string of Yuuri’s messages to him:

(Are you alright?)

(Victor tell me it’s not true)

(Please answer me I’m scared)

(Victor please I need you to say you’re there)

(I love you so much please come back)

(I really need you to say something)

(I love you so much)

Yuuri stared at the tiny red exclamation point that indicated that they were not delivered. He tapped the symbol and chose to try again. He had been trying for nearly every hour since he heard the news. He couldn’t help but to hold on to the tiny spark of hope that those messages would somehow be sent. That Victor might actually see his words.

After a minute, the explanation point appeared again.

Frustrated tears started forming again. Yuuri laid on his back, covering his eyes with his forearms to try to block them. Still, the tears slipped through the creases in the corners of his eyes. The phone suddenly vibrating in his hand made the Japanese man freeze. Did it finally send? Was that Victor’s response? He quickly sat up and looked at the new notification.

Phichit Chulanont

( <`～´> if you don’t respond I WILL FIND YOU)

Yuuri sighed, tempted to toss the phone aside. Instead, he took a breath and sent a message.

(Sorry)

(FINALLY (^o^) / )

( I was about to fly to Japan to get you <3 )

Yuuri sighed, looking at all of the other messages his best friend sent him. He had a vague memory of glancing at the daily message, but promptly forgot to reply. Maybe the conversation with Yuri gave him the little bit of extra energy he needed.

(Sorry I made you worry)

( (*^_^*) )

(It’s ok)

(Other Yuri kept me updated)

(Plisetsky?)

(I’m shocked too)

Yuuri went back to the conversation with Victor. He stared at the selfie, wishing it had been a video instead of just a photo of him. He needed to hear his voice. _‘What would Victor think?’_ rang through his mind. He had a sudden sinking feeling that felt like a bucket of freezing water over his head. Victor was gone, and Yuuri had spent who knows how long in bed crying about it.

Yuuri was sure that Victor would be almost as ashamed of him as he was.

* * *

“Yuuchan!” Hiroko happily greeted her son, nearly dropping the tray of onigiri she was holding as Makkachin patiently followed her. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Yuuri replied flatly. He only got dressed and already felt tired enough to crawl back into bed. So much for his famous stamina.

Noise from the dining area drew his attention away. The usual guests were there, staring at the TV over steaming bowls of food. On the TV, a montage of Victor’s last season played to melancholy piano music. Then the image changed.

“TURN THAT OFF!” Mari shouted from the counter, scrambling for the remote just a second too late.

Yuuri saw it.

Later at the Ice Castle, Yuuri stopped in the center of the ice. He imagined “Yuri On Ice” playing as he skated his routine. They drilled this program enough times for him to easily pull up the music in his mind. He needed the distraction.

 _‘Don’t think about that,’_ Yuuri thought as he cleared the first combination. _‘Anything but that.’_

Still, he could not shake the image of a partially burned ice skate laying on ripped singed fabric, it’s gold blade smudged with black. Victor’s custom skate.

Yuuri caught the other Yuri walk in with his own skates slung over his shoulder. The younger skater stopped, obviously surprised to see him there. Yuuri couldn’t stop though. He had to finish this his program.

 _Their_ program. Unlike his short, the free skate was the first program Victor actually choreographed with him. The only one. They spent days putting everything they could into this routine. This program was as much Victor’s as it was his. That made this even more precious to him. That made him even more determined to pour his heart into this performance.

Except, the more he tried, the colder he felt. Yuuri tried to pull up his feelings, but instead found nothing. Emptiness he’d only glimpsed before Victor, when he lost Viccchan. A dark abyss that threatened to consume him. An ocean that part of him wanted to drown in.

_“Yuuri!”_

After the quad flip that ended slightly over rotated and nearly stumbled steps, the edges of his vision started to darken. He pushed himself through the lightheadedness that came with it. _‘Victor, are you watching?’_ he thought as he felt the slight wobble in his last spin. _‘Why won’t you answer me?’_ When he reached his final position, with his left hand reaching to the empty space he heard his fiancé’s voice come from just moments before, his vision went dark. _‘Oh. That’s right. You’re not actually there.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Phichit and Yuuri's conversation is, so far, my favorite part of writing this. I tried to format it so it would resemble what the conversation would look like on Yuuri's iPhone because that's what I have.  
> *I wrote chapters 2-5, read them, then changed the storyline and had to rewrite them. This chapter has parts of the original chapters 2 and 3.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translations are at the bottom.

_“Yuuri!” Victor stood in the middle of the ice. The only light came from a spot far behind him, lighting up his silver hair like a halo. He leaned on one leg, his arms crossed as he tapped his chin with his finger. The light flashed dazzlingly off his ring._

_“Victor!”_

_The Russian skater’s smile broadened, turning more heart-shaped, as he turned away. The gold blades flashed like a flame. “Skate with me!” But no matter how hard he tried, Yuuri only saw Victor glide farther and farther away, toward that brilliant point._

_“Victor! Wait!” He pushed himself to skate faster. He had to catch him. Everything will be alright if he just caught him._

_Then, Yuuri heard a soft TINK, like something metal hitting the ice. The Japanese skater kneeled down to the ice, where a gold ring rattled. At first, he thought maybe his ring slipped off, but it was still on his finger when he reached down. Which meant that this was Victor’s ring. A pair of skates appeared before Yuuri. The black toes were scuffed. The gold blades were smudged with black._

_“Victor!” Yuuri looked up, expecting to see Victor’s grinning face. Instead, he realized that the skates were standing on their own. That there was no audience. Beyond his lonely spotlight, everything was dark, empty._

_Suddenly, Yuuri fell through the ice. Impossibly cold water seemed to seem through him straight down into his bones. As he sank deeper, choking on the freezing water, Yuuri could see glimmers of snowflakes and cherry blossom petals swirl up to the surface._

At first, Yuuri thought he still saw those same glimmers when he came to, leaning against the barrier wall, but they quickly faded away. ‘What happened?’ Everything was blurry and his head hurt, which was not helped by the person shouting on the phone, in Russian. Yuuri knew that he knew him, but somehow could not grasp who he was. “Sumimasen, anata wa-“

Yuri glanced down from where he sat, rubbing his ankle with his free hand. Damn Katsuki! Why, of all places in Hasetsu, did he have to faint in the middle of the ice? “Spasibo Yakov,” he said into the phone, where his coach was still yelling. “Ya pozvonyu tebe pozzhe.” He made sure to hand Yuuri his glasses before he sat down. “That was scary as fuck, Katsudon!”

“”Katsudon”?” Yuuri repeated, pointing at himself. His name was Katsuki, not Katsudon. It had to be a mispronunciation. Katsudon was his favorite dish. It was also the nickname given to him by, “Yurio!”

“That’s not my name!” Yuri watched the Japanese skater, unsure of how to react. He noticed that Yuuri’s reaction time seemed off and his speech slightly slurred. Even his eyes seemed a little unfocused.

“Gomen Yuri!” Yuuri put his hands together and bowed his head behind them, though he couldn’t help the teasing smile. “Anata no han'nō wa omoshiro sugiru!”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “English, Yuuri! I don’t speak Japanese!”

For a minute, Yuuri stared at the teenager. Then, without thinking, he looked up at the ceiling with a finger on his lip. Just like Victor. “Kore wa English wanaidesu ka?”

Yuri rolled his eyes and kept typing away on his phone on the bench next to him so he could keep rubbing his ankle. He saw Yuuri’s last jump and knew, from his own experience, that he’d need some assistance getting off. He just didn’t expect the other skater to just drop before he finished tying his skates. “You can’t skip meals, idiot.”

As hard as he tried, Yuuri could not remember the last time he ate a full meal. He made sure Makkachin ate twice a day, but he realized that he’d barely got a few spoonful of food in. Even his mother’s katsudon on the first night was barely touched.

“Yeah, dumb ass.” Plisetsky reached into his own bag and tossed a bottle at the other skater. The label was in Cyrillic, but featured a picture of what looked like chocolate milk splashing. “Protein shake. I stole a bunch from my rink.”

Usually, Yuuri didn’t care for protein shakes, preferring to eat his meals rather than drink them, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t a good time to be picky. He took a sip, pausing at the hint of coffee in the chocolate drink. Mocha.

_“Best mocha ever!” Victor proudly proclaimed, wearing a whipped cream mustache. They were both on Victor’s bed with Makkachin in the middle, his head on his owner’s lap._

_“I’m glad,” Yuuri said as he looked away to hide his slight blush. Just weeks ago, Yuuri Katsuki would not have dreamed that he would ever have a conversation with the Victor Nikiforov, and now here he was, sitting with him on his bed with his dog while his idol drank his mocha!_

_Victor smiled, tilting his head to the side. “What is it?”_

_Yurri took a deep breath to calm himself. “I…I’m sorry for touching your head earlier.”_

_The older man touched the longer hair in front of his face, examining the silver strands. “It really is getting thin…”_

_“I’m sorry!” Yuuri repeated, scooting himself back to start bowing again. Only this time, Makkachin started licking his face. Victor’s laugh filled the air around them. It was the infectious type that blew away Yuuri’s nervousness like a puff of dandelion seeds. Warm and bright and welcoming. Soon they were both laughing as Makachin jumped between them like a puppy, licking both of their faces in the excitement._

* * *

As a thank you, Yuuri took him to a nearby convenience store for a snack on the way back to Yu-Topia. Yuri seemed very unimpressed by the selection, until he saw a tiger-themed bun. He caught the younger skater making a note on his phone as he paid. The Japanese skater nearly choked on his own red bean bun when his phone vibrated. He stifled a cough as he looked down at the screen before answering. “Celestino?”

“I heard from Coach Feltsman. You fainted?” Celestino could not believe when he got the call. First off, that old antisocial Yakov even had his phone number. Then, that Yuuri Katsuki, who nearly doubled his weight in a month after his defeat in Sochi, had passed out from _not_ eating.“Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri replied, waving at Yuri, who had stopped when he heard coughing, to go ahead without him. “Just got a little dizzy.”

“Uh-huh.” Coach Cialdini was not convinced, having heard that line before. Not from Katsuki, who he had witness devour a whole large Big Mac meal with a milkshake and then more fries, or Chulanont, who had to have the most picturesque meal to post online, but from every other student he’d ever had.

“Really! I am sorry to worry you!” Yuuri said as he started slightly bowing. “Thank you for calling!”

“Listen, I was going to wait until…later, but since you’re here, I have to ask,” Celestino started to say. Yuuri could picture his former coach standing at the ice rink, one arm across himself to support his other elbow. “What are your plans for next season?”

“Next season…?” That was so far away. It felt like too much to even try to think that far ahead. At the moment, he just wanted to get the day over with. And then the next. And the next. And all of the next days that until….

“If you’re planning on competing, I can train you here with Phichit,” Celestino stated. The Thai skater could he heard in the background, asking him if that was Yuuri and to say that he loved him. “We’re back in Detroit.”

“I have to think about it.” Yuuri stared out to the beach. The sun had already set, but was still casting the sky light violet. Like the jacket of Victor’s final costume. He could still remember the feel of the slightly sheer fabric under his fingers as they skated. He remembered the soft whoosh as he slipped it over Victor’s head.

“If that’s what you want, let me know,” Celestino said. If he heard Yuuri sniffle, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I will.” Yuuri wiped his eyes with the back of his other hand, getting breadcrumbs on his nose and cheeks. “Thank you again.” After ending the call, Yuuri Katsuki stood on the bridge, watching the sky grow darker as the tears fell freely down his cheeks.

* * *

Later, Yuuri soaked in the hot water as the steam rose and disappeared into the night sky. For years, he would wait until the hot baths closed for business so he could watch the moon undisturbed. He preferred the solitude that came with being alone. He could think without anyone watching or asking questions.

Next season. Though the actual Grand Prix series was not for months, Yuuri knew that his decision about competing had to come soon. Celestino was not the first to question whether or not Katsuki planned on participating. His sponsors had sent emails and letters. His fans flooded his social media posts and inboxes with hopes he would return and to offer their condolences. Even some of his competitors sent messages online to ask.

Truthfully, part of Yuuri wanted to take the year off. There was just too much Victor intertwined with the idea of the Grand Prix. He knew that every part of the competition would remind him that his fiancé was not there. Then there was the terror of what people might think. Victor Nikiforov had missed the last Grand Prix series to train him, a dime a dozen skater who could only bring him a silver medal. Sure, officially he retired to spend more time with Makkachin, but Yuuri knew what it looked like. There had to be people out there that blamed him for Victor not competing.

_‘They probably hate me,’_ Yuuri thought, sinking lower into the water.

Still, another part of him knew that if he didn’t compete, he may as well retire. While he was not as old as Victor was, he was among the older competitors. Yuuri only a few years in competition before all of it caught up to him. Before some injury resulted in him being forced off the ice for good. The only thing that stopped him before was his desire to compete against Victor.

And now that was gone.

There was yet another part of him that wanted to compete. Needed to compete. After all of his shyness, there was something about being on the ice under a spotlight that excited him. There was nothing as thrilling as standing on a podium with a newly won medal. First, he would need new choreography, which meant he needed a coach, and the thought of finding a coach felt too much like replacing Victor.

Yuuri sat up again and leaned his head back, watching as the sky started fading….

* * *

_Yuri Plisetsky’s fist met the brick wall before he realized he threw the punch. The shock of the pain in his hand combined with the gravity of the news. Victor Nikiforov would never compete against him. Victor would never skate again. He would never walk into the ice rink again._

_Victor Nikiforov would never tease him again, and that blow cut Yuri Plisetsky deeper than he could have ever imagined._

_Yuri pressed his forehead against the wall. The same fist slammed into the wall again as he slowly sank to his knees. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop the sobs that overwhelmed him and echoed off the metal lockers and tile floors._

Laying in his bed at Yu-Topia, Yuri stared at the ceiling. He needed to sleep. It was already late and he had a full day planned. There was no time to replay bad memories in his mind. That memory did though, seeming to return every time he tried to rest.

So, he didn’t rest. He took Makkachin on his morning jogs. He helped the Katsukis set up the baths before Yu-Topia opened. He skated and danced before and after lunch, broken again by an afternoon jog. He tried to help again with the dinner rush. He finally started to catch up on his online school work. He did everything he could think of to not think of that.

Yuri winced when his fist started to sting again, knowing exactly what happened without even glancing down. He accidentally scratched off a scab again. He knew he was lucky he didn’t break any bones or dislocate any joints. The bruises were almost gone. There was just the scabbing, which probably would have healed already if he would stop picking at them every night. The teenager sat up on the bed and switched on the light. He watched as blood rose up on the temporarily open wound. He wiped it with a finger and watched again. Then he picked off the other scab and over-straightened his hand, watching his blood rise to the surface again….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations come from Google. I did my best to double check the Japanese with a dictionary but I couldn’t do the same for the Russian. (*^_^*)
> 
> Russian:  
> “Spasibo Yakov” =“Thanks Yakov”  
> “Ya pozvonyu tebe pozzhe = “I’ll call you later”
> 
> Japanese:  
> “Sumimasen, anata wa-“ – “Excuse me, you are-“  
> “Gomen Yuri!” – “Sorry Yuri” [informal]  
> “Anata no han'nō wa omoshiro sugiru!” – “Your reaction is too funny!”  
> “Kore wa English wanaidesu ka?” – Isn’t this in English? [I changed switched “Eigode” to “English”]
> 
> This was originally two chapters, but I feel like they do better together and I need to pick up the pace a bit.
> 
> Yuuri's confusion will be explained soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**FIGURE SKATER YUURI KATSUKI RUSHED TO HOSPITAL**

Yuuri found it to be very strange to watch the video of the ambulance in front of Yu-Topia with that headline. He found it stranger that he was the one being taken out on a stretcher to be driven to the hospital. Even stranger was that Yuri Plisetsky, of all people, was the one that found him unconscious in the outdoor bath and rode in the ambulance with him. As much as he tried not to, he found it absolutely mortifying to think that Yuri Plisetsky found him like that. During Yuri’s last visit, they had seen each other naked in the onsen, but that was different. Yuuri was conscious for that and not drowning.

Doctor Mizuno had explained to Yuuri that he likely lost consciousness due to his fall earlier the day before. She said that it was likely that hitting his head on the ice likely caused a concussion, and that he should not be surprised if he experiences symptoms such as migraines, nausea, or others that he forgot. The doctor said that they could discuss his treatment and recovery once his test results came back.

Yuri Plisetsky sat in a chair near the bed, talking on his phone as he sipped from an overly sweet smelling coffee, his Russia jacket draped over his pajamas. The teenager had called Mari as soon as Yuuri regained consciousness in the hospital so both of them could talk to her and their parents. After that, Yuri made another phone call in quiet-as-possible-for-him Russian. Yuuri heard his and Victor’s names several times. Yuri cursed when he ended that call. He then finished the coffee, tipping his head back to get every last drop. “Yakov demanded you feel better.”

Yuuri chuckled, then winced. The reason he remembered those two symptoms was because he was experiencing them. The TV was muted and the black-out curtains were drawn. Yuri had his glasses, since wearing them made his head pounding and queasiness even worse.

“That bad?” Yuri asked quietly.

Turning away, Yuuri nodded, the English words escaping him. While the room was relatively dark, the hallway was still fully lit. The doorway next to the teenager was blinding.

“I’m gonna go find some food,” Yuri announced. He once again thanked whoever gave a damn that he’d left some yen notes folded in his phone case. Hiroko promised to bring him a change of clothes when she came, but Yuuri told her to wait until after they finished the morning preparations. There was no guarantee she would also bring his wallet.

A few minutes after Yuri left, leaving the glasses next to Yuuri’s hand, the doctor returned. “Katsuki-kun? How are you feeling?” She asked [in Japanese].

“I’m fine,” Yuuri replied, then looked away. Her light blue scrubs were so bright.

“I can give you something for the headache in just a moment,” she stated, examining the monitors. “The results came back. You have a mild concussion. We also found some evidence of head trauma from a few months ago?”

For a moment, Yuuri couldn’t think of what she was talking about. Then he remembered. His first performance of “Yuri On Ice” during regionals. Where were they? He should know what region he competes in, but somehow it just wouldn’t process. “I ran into the barrier wall at regionals.”

“Mm-hm.” The doctor watched him carefully, making notes on her papers. Did he say something wrong? “Did your coach take you to a physician for that?”

“No. It was his first competition as my coach.” Yuuri suddenly remembered that it was Victor’s only Grand Prix series as a coach. Why was that? They agreed that Victor would stay as Yuuri coach while making his return as a competitive skater. He couldn’t remember why his fiancé wasn’t coaching him this season. Why he wasn’t there yet. “Should he have?”

“Yes. You suffered a concussion from that as well, which will delay your recovery,” she stated matter of fact as she looked at his results. “Now, I would like to have you here for a few days for monitoring,” Doctor Mizuno stated looking at her papers again. Her papers rustled so much, Yuuri found himself trying to look as well. She caught his brown eyes and paused as she examined them. “Katsuki-kun? Are you feeling well? Where did your friend go?”

Yuuri only stared, his mind racing. Where did Yuri go? Was he going to call Victor? Where was Victor? Why was Victor not there yet?

* * *

Needing a break from the constant buzz of the hospital machines and intercom annoucements, Yuri Plisetsky ended up walking to a nearby café, hood drawn up to mask his tired frown. He sat by the window next to a plant while he drank his second coffee of the day. He saw other teenagers in blazers rushing up and down the streets. At first, he wondered if it was normal for Japanese people his age to have office jobs, but then overheard a couple of girls an upcoming exam at the pick-up counter.

_‘School,’_ the Russian skater thought as he looked down at his muffin. Since Yuri started skating at such a young age, his only experience with school was the programs Yakov arranged around practice. Education wise, he only needed the basics, and even that he was behind on. As long as he was the best on the ice, everything else was taken care of. He just had to keep skating and bringing home medals.

Train

Compete

Win

Repeat

Just like Victor did. Yuri knew he had to get to Victor’s level. He needed to be better than Victor Nikiforov, the Most Decorated Skater of All Time. Yuri Plisetsky could not live in his shadow.

At a table across from Yuri, he saw an older woman sit with a drink topped with whipped cream, reading an international sports magazine. It was a special edition for the Barcelona Grand Prix. He was on the cover, standing on the podium with a gold medal under the Russia flag. If it weren’t for the yellow-blonde hair, he might have mistaken it for another photo of Victor. Even the words printed by his face read “THE NEXT NIKIFOROV”.

Because that was what everyone wanted right? Another Victor Nikiforov? Another figure skater to idolize until he stumbles off the ice with battered feet hidden in boots balanced on razor blades? Because, once they stepped onto the ice, their lives off it meant nothing. They only existed in the spotlight like a museum piece, a “work of art” to be admired.

He looked out the window again, wondering what it was really like to just be a teenager. He had a taste of it with the Katsukis, but he always had in mind that he had competitions coming up. He wished he could just forget for a moment, to be able to laugh like that with friends. Actual friends that he could hang out with at any time because they weren’t in different countries, and not potential competition. Without the thought of scores and medals.

Yuri Plisetsky poked his muffin with a bandaged finger, watching the pastry’s edge crumble onto the table.

* * *

After a stop to a convenience store for some snacks, Yuri returned to the hospital to just in time to see a nurse rushing a cart into Yuuri’s room. When he tried to run in, another nurse stopped him, saying something in quick Japanese that he had no hope trying to understand. He didn’t need to. The sight of Yuuri Katsuki, known for his mesmerizing step sequences and beautiful spins, convulsing in the hospital bed, was enough. He stepped back, watching the activity. Then he squatted on the floor. He put his head down, not wanting to watch the activity in the room. He ran his fingers up through his hair, the blonde strands catching on the fresh scabs on his knuckles, to rest it on the back of his head.

Hiding his face in his elbow, Yuri Plisetsky hoped no one would notice his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter. So far, this has been one of the hardest to write. For a week, I kept writing and rewriting and putting aside scenes that didn’t work (I even wrote a drabble called Maybe It Was that I already posted if you need some fluff). Then I remembered that falling on ice can cause a concussion.  
> *I’m trying to depict Yuuri’s concussion without feeling like it’s too much like a textbook example.  
> *I did not use Japanese for the news headline or for Yuuri and Doctor Mizuno’s conversation because this is easier to read. I did try, but this just flows better.
> 
> *Also, I really hate doing this, but if you do like what you are reading, please give kudos and subscribe!

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me...?
> 
> I am figuring this out as I write since actual plotting never seems to work for me. Thankfully, I'm almost done with Chapter 2 so I feel more confident about sharing this.
> 
> EDIT 4/13: I forgot the term "figure skater" until I started the draft for chapter 3 this afternoon and fixed the news headline because it was bothering me.


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